


It’s a Bittersweet Symphony This Life

by SambliongPalpatine



Category: DCS Legends of Tomorrow
Genre: Drinking, God I hate tagging, M/M, craziness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22576573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SambliongPalpatine/pseuds/SambliongPalpatine
Summary: Denial  Acceptance  Love
Relationships: John Constantine/Ray Palmer
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53





	It’s a Bittersweet Symphony This Life

**Author's Note:**

> Well folks, here you have another fic I wrote last year and finally edited. 
> 
> I watched season 4 of Legends and I couldn’t help myself. I mean, Ray and John in episode 4... ye

Constantine doesn’t know when or how he fell in love with Raymond Palmer. 

Maybe it was because he reminded him of Chas; with his big, soft heart and his lots of tall and sweetness. 

Maybe it was when they got paired together at Summer Camp and John experienced first hand the nerdy delight that is Raymond. 

Or maybe it was later, when Ray insisted that Constantine is a good person and worth saving then went to bring Nora Darhkto fix him up. 

Or god, maybe it was when the sweet, silly big teddy-bear sacrificed himself to save Nate. He went and made a deal with a demon because yeah, that’s what all sane people do. 

Maybe though, maybe it were all the things in between that made John fall in love with him; like the surprisingly nice hugs, the late movies, the meals Ray cooks for him, the way he touches him...

-

John has just lost Des, permanently this time. His stash of alcohol is gone and he hasn’t eaten in... well, however long it has been. 

And hell, he is hungry but doesn’t feel like eating. Or didn’t when he still had liquid nutrition. 

There’s also the small detail of him being a shit cook. So yeah, no food for him. 

“Mr. Constantine, you are required in the kitchen,” the annoying voice of the AI comes from the ceiling. 

John sighs and rubs a hand over his face tiredly before going to see what the bloody hell these Legends wanted now. 

John drags his weary body into the kitchen where a delicious and enticing smell hits him full force. His stomach gives a loud grumble and he tries to supress his groan of embarrassment. 

“Oh, someone is hungry,” someone exclaims cheerfully. 

John blinks in confusion for a moment before finally recognizing Ray’s lots of tall standing in front of the stove stirring whatever delicious smelling concoction he’s cooking. 

He turns his head, smiling broadly at him. “Come sit, John.”

John does as he is told reluctantly. “Why, squire, you made me dinner?” he jokss, smirking. 

“Matter of fact,” the other man answers as he brings him a bowl of the steaming goodness to John. “I did.”

He passes Constantine a spoon and some condiments like salt and pepper. He then takes a seat in front of him and motions with his hand for John to go ahead and eat. 

John grabs the utensil and takes a testing bite of the stew and- shite, it’s the best thing he’s had in forever; perfect cooked pieces of meat, all creamy savory flavor mixing perfectly with the smaller pieces of vegetables swimming around the broth. Ray isn’t talking, no. For once in his life he is just sitting there, staring at him like an eager puppy. 

“You know mate, if you wanted to take me to bed all you had to do was ask,” he smirks and gestures towards the bowl. “I’m a simple man you see,” he winks at an already flustered Ray. 

Ray spouters and starts blabbering. “N- No. That is so not why I did it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you are attractive but I- I have- we have noticed you’ve barely eaten since... and we were worried-“

John smiles fondly at the blushing blabbering mess that’s Raymond Palmer and places a hand over his to stop his missery. “I was joking, don’t hurt yourself,” he plays it off. 

Ray is tripping over his tongue and John is tempted to kiss him just for the gist of it. But even when the man likes musicals, knows the bloody showtunes and isn’t shy about admitting Patrick Swayze is hot, he’s never shown any interest in him like that. Even more, he seems to be all lovey-dovey with Nora frigging Darhk. 

But with this meal it’s as if Ray has just fed a stray. 

That never ends well. I mean, look at what happened with Ana-Maria or with Zed, or with Chas, or... Des. 

He is such a mess. He doesn’t deserve good things. Having Hell after your soul isn’t the best presentationcard and it will blow up on your face sooner than later. 

He served himself a second helping of heavenly stew, his body pleasantly warm and was allowed to have a finger of whisky while staring at Ray’s goofy smile as he reads the last communication with Nora. 

Something rusty clenches inside of John. 

And then he puts his phone away and turns those puppy-dog eyes at him. 

“You know, other people will treat you the way you treat yourself,” he finally spurs his mooshy philosophy. It only serves to make John’s heart try to make a comeback. 

“Well squire, you have to work on your seduction techniques,” he smirks into the rim of his tumbler. 

Ray blushes and stutters. “Seduction- what, no, there’s nothing like that-“ he manages out. “I thought we had established that.” 

John chuckles, it’s always so easy to fluster the big man, John enjoys it. 

He drains his glass and sets it back down before standing up. “Alright mate, thank you for the meal and for what you have tried to do but it’s not necessary,” he says. 

Ray stands as well, frowning. “John-“

Constantine shakes his head. “Listen mate, I appreciate it but I don’t need being taken care of,” he states. 

Before Ray can protest though, John hurries away to the safety of his room. 

-

John stares at the wall ahead of him, hot water has been pumping over his already flushed body for the past... well perseption of time in a time-ship tends to blurr (and when you haven’t slept for the past four days your days [maybe more or maybe less] start to blend with one another). 

Pesky little feelings have started to push their way to the forefront of his mind; ones he wishes never came out of his Pandora’s box. These bloody legends and their ability to bring “the good in you”out. 

He never really expected to end up caring about this bunch of misfits. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he cares about Ray big man Palmer, though. 

He prefers to shower late at night, when he can hog the hot water freely, with no buggering roommates threatening to bring the door down if he didn’t hurry. It’s a good thing he doesn’t sleep anyway. 

So with his pruney skin he rips himself from the shower before it can actually blister. Welts and clothes aren’t a nice kink. 

John dries himself mindlessly and dresses in ratty pants and a Liverpool soccer team oversized t-shirt he’s forgotten where it came from. Contrary to popular belief, he does own clothes to sleep in because well, his formal pants, shirt and tie are a pain to wear for bed. 

He drags himself to the lounge room or whatever they call the room with the telly and a couch in here. 

Mindless infomercials help his mind disconnect for a while; not thinking about stuff is the closest he gets to sleeping these days. 

It turns out that someone has already stolen his dwelling place however, there’s sound and light coming from the screen that serves as warning. 

He thought he would find Zari or even Charlie watching some show or another or hacking ARGUS or NASA or whatever catches Z’s fancy. 

He finds nothing of the sort. 

Instead he findsRay slouching on the couch, watching...

“Not my kind of Dirty Dancing but it would do,” he casually speaks. 

It’s worth it when he sees the other man startle. He plops unceremoniously next to him (if he sits closer than necessary well, no one is none the wiser) and gets comfy against the cushions. 

Ray sighs longingly. “I miss Nate,” he says, a tinge of yearning in his voice. “He knew how to appreciate Swayze.”

John has never understood what’s so special about the man beyond his good looks and great dancing skills. 

I mean, he made that movie where he as a ghost helped Demi Moore create clay-pots, for god’s sake. 

John feels a pang of something hit his heart; something green and ugly he doesn’t like, or even want to admit to feeling it. But he is now feeling, nonetheless. 

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Well squire, Nate may not be here right now but,” he isn’t sure what drove him to say what he said next, but he can’t bring himself to regret it. “I’m here and I sure know how to appreciate beauty,” he says, trying to sound more nonchalant than what he really feels. 

Ray beams at him, all the way the excited puppy and God, maybe John will regret this sooner than he thought. 

“Oh my god, really? I mean, it’s great! I didn’t take you for the kind to watch these comercial films, to be honest,” he says excitedly. 

John plasters his usual smirk and turns to look at the screen where Baby and Johnny (Constantine has to laugh at that),were dancing to that sensual song. They are both graceful in their movements, their perfect symmetry paired of with that Solomon Burke’s song. 

As he has come to realize, Ray couldn’t stay quiet for long. So after some silent watching the puppy of a man whirls his head around, his beautiful eyes wide with excitement. “What about mu-“

John holds a finger up to stop him because there is a line you can’t cross. “Yeah, lets not blow this out of proportion, shall we?”

Ray’sdeflates a little and turns his attention back to the screen. But he wouldn’t be Raymondo if he let his mood down for long; he suddenly started mumbling along the dialogues and humming the songs all while drooling over Swayze. 

And Johnsat there, absorbing it all in; Ray’s relaxed expression, his messy hair and slouched position, his voice-imitation of the charactersand the gentle movements of his head as he follows the music. 

He is unaware of when his eyes closed or when his head dropped onto Ray’s shoulder or one of the man’s hands coming up to card through John’s messy blonde curls. He is also unaware of having falling asleep and of the big man carrying him to his room bridal style. 

He is unaware of having slept through the night, nightmare-free. Until he wakes up. In his bed. At nine in the fucking a.m. 

-

Unsurprisingly, John fucked up. As he tends to eventually do. 

Demons are sneaky, little... minxes? Saying demons is a bit reduntant. Point is, it’s always a demon. 

And John fucked up. 

Everything was going fine; his gallivanting through time with the Legends, his getting along with Zari and Charlie having bonded over their liking of bad punk music and bad life experiences, Rory is... well, he is Rory. 

And Ray. Ray that’s a beam of sunshine in John’s darkness. Ray that’s all cheerfulness and faith in people. Ray who’s a nerdy, excited, man-sized golden retriever who babbles and rambles wben he is nervous or flustered. Ray that is blindingly trusting and cute and crazy about musicals and chores and science and-

John couldn’t, he knew he was gonna be powerless against that. 

Ray has fed him, coaxed him into bed whenever he notices John isn’t sleeping again. Ray who’s insisted on introducing him to Indiana Jones and Star Wars and debated wich is better; the former or Star Trek (yes, John has seen those). 

And yes, they have had lengthy arguments about science and magic and if they can explain each other. 

In the end it ended up as it always does; Ray trusted him and he got hurt. Like every time someone trusts him. 

Some part of his brain is trying to vouch for reason; telling him that, realistically, it wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing he could have done to prevent the possessed doll from dragging Ray from wall to wall. 

So now- despite that same brain part yelling at him to stop, that he was doing so great, to stop this mad binder he’s endeavoring in- he can’t stop. 

Ever since Neron’s defeat, he’s tried to stay clean from alcohol, cigarets or any other drugs for that matter and he was actually making an effort to eat better. Overall trying to be better. 

Because maybe, just maybe, that’s how he’d deserve Ray. 

Instead here he is, sprawled on the floor of his room with his back slumped against a wall; a fag between his fingers and a nearly empty bottle of something alcoholic and the lyrics to some song spuing out of his mouth. 

“I wanna love you but I better not touch, I wanna hold you but my senses tell me to stop, I wanna kiss you but I want it too much... I want it too much,” he whispers, bringing both his hands up to try take a drag and a drink at the same time which resulted in a drink spill and a bit of a burn, before he continues with the song. “I wanna taste you but my lips are venomous poison, I’m poison running through- my veins, I-m poison,” he is sure he just messed up the lyrics but it’s not as if Alice Cooper is here to supervise he sings his lyrics right. 

“Mr. Constantine, I would strongly advise you stop,” Gideon’s voice says. 

John makes a sound between a snort and a scoff. “Yes well, didn’t ask you for your advise, did I?” he slurrs, making shooing motions with the hand holding the fag. 

The IA. No, AI, or whatever, doesn’t scold him because the smoke, though. Instead it? she? turns the sprinklers on and leaves him alone like he deserves. He doesn’t really register he is all wet and that his smoke is now ruined. 

“Poison runnin’ deep inside my veins. Burnin’ deep inside my brain. Poisoning...” this last word comes out barely above a whisper. 

John takes out the surveillance photo Zari took of him and his mother and caresses the woman’s face with soft fingertips. "The only blessing in my life is that you aren’t here to see me, mum," he mutters quietly, a lump in his throat. 

He swallows the last of his drink and lets his head fall back again. He isn’t aware of the new presence on his room until they were kneeling before him and there were hands on his shoulders, shaking him. 

“John, John, what’s wrong?” a voice that shouldn’t be here, speaks. 

John’s eyes snap open and sure enough, there Ray knelt in front of him; eyes full of concern even when half of his face is still pretty banged up and there’s a bandage covering his left arm, he is trying to hide his wincing. 

He shouldn’t be here, no. He should be in medbay, letting Gideon put him back together. He should be far away from John, he shouldn’t be here. He- he-

John hurries to put the photo away and shakes his head furiously. “No mate, what are you doline here? No, you should be getting better. No mate, you should run, you should be away from me. You- you-“ he is somewhat aware of his panicking and hyperventilating but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. 

He got Ray hurt.Doesn’t matter how hard he tried to be good, to do good. He still failed. 

Breathing came harder now, his chest starting to hurt. But he couldn’t stop because he could have lost Ray and he’s lost so many people already and he just couldn’t, not again. Not Ray. 

“Sh sh, it wasn’t your fault, John. Breathe, come on. Breathe with me,” the man’s soothing voice coaxes him slowly back to a normal rhythm. 

After some more minutes of silent breathing, John finally starts to calm down. “Listen to me squire, you really should stay well away from me. I’m- I’m no good,” he says shakily, eyes stinging. He sees Ray frowning and preparing to protest so he barrels on. “I chose to save Astra, back when I went to Hell to try and get you back,” he swallows, lowering his eyes. “I was going to leave you there. So do you understand why I say I’m no good?” he fjnally pushes out. 

Ray’s eyes soften but John misses it. “I know, John. I don’t blame you for wanting to save the little girl you felt guilt for having sent to hell. That doesn’t mean you are no good. On the contrary,” he says firmly. 

John shakes his head sadly. “That’s because you don’t know any better, mate,” he mumbles. 

Ray shrugs and smiles a little as he grabs both of John’s hands. “Yeah well, you know me; always trying to see the best in people,” he stands up carefully, wincing a little when he puts more weight on his left leg but he still pulls John up with him. “For now though, we should go get you dry clothesand some food,” he says cheerfully. 

John snorts but reluctantly lets the other man drag him out the room and into the bathroom.

Ray wraps a towel around his shoulders to start rubbing his hair dry, John allows this without a word. It feels... nice, having someone do this; take care of him like this. 

Ray smiles reassuringly. “I’ll be back, alright?” he says, already moving to the door not really waiting for an answer. 

John wraps the towel tighter around him like a security blanket and just leans harder against the counter. He is too drained to do anything else. 

The big man doesn’t take long though; he comes backwith a bundle of clothes and a glass of water that he immediately thrusts into John’s hands. 

John scowls at the water and is about to push it back but at Ray’s stern look (yes, he is apparently capable of doing stern) he drinks the water in one go. 

“Happy now?” he grumbles. 

Ray beams at him and nods. “Yes, you do need fluids other than alcohol in your system,” he says, adopting that sciency professor kinda voice he gets when he’s about to wax poetry about facts like that. But he doesn’t continue with the class, instead he just exchange the glass with the clothes. “Here, you can change into these, they are dry and comfy and ugh- do you need any help?” he babbles away and John’s never wanted to kiss him more than at this moment. 

He does nothing of the sort, though. He only huffs and smiles a little. “No, squire. I’m a big boy, can still dress myself but thank you anyway,” he tries for his usual brand of cheekiness. 

Ray blushes and stutters a little, pointing with his thumb behind himself. “Alright, okay. I- I’ll wait outside, then,” he rushes out before stumbling out the bathroom. 

John sighs and looks down at the clothes in his hands; they are soft and well-worn and- they aren’t his. They look too big to be his. And they smell like Ray. 

John smiles fondly before divesting his wet clothes before dressing in the clean ones. They feel warn and comforting. 

John hopes Gideon can’t see this cliche moment when he smells the collar of Ray’s shirt, eyes closed. 

He walks slowly towards the door and out to find Ray leaning against the opposite wall, nervously swaying his body from heel to toe, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. 

He jerks his head up when he hears the door open and sighs when he sees him come out. 

“Hey, good. You are changed,” he approaches John, eyeing him approvingly and motions for him to follow. 

John swallows and goes reluctantly behind the big man to see what comes next; dinner? A bed time story? Maybe, knowing Ray, a lullaby too. 

He’s surprised to find himself inside Ray’s room. It’s the same size as his own but different too. 

There’s an Indiana Jones’ poster and some Star Wars memorabilia and other science trinkets and books, all chaotically arranged. 

There’s a stash of letters shoved at the back of the desk alongside some photos. 

“Guess it’s your place instead of mine, ey squire?” he smirks as he eyes the sort of made bed wistfully. 

Ray’s expression is endearingly sheepish as he looks from the bed to John and back to the bed before inhaling and exhaling. “No, it’s not like that. Well, maybe sort of but not really,” he stutters, going to pull the covers back. “Your room needs to... um, dry after the sprinklers got turned on,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “And you need to sleep, so...” he trails off and gestures to the bed. 

The smirk slips right off of John’s face when realization sinks in. This dumb idiotic big man wants to share the bed. With John. But John wouldn’t be John if he showed nothing but his usual brand of snark when doesn’t want to show how affected he really is. “Well dreamboat, I did say I’ve had stranger bed fellows than you,” he saunters to the bed and plops down on the matress and burrows deeply into the pillow. 

“Huh, should I take that as a compliment?” Ray asks as he hesitantly joins John on the bed. 

He lays down on his back, leaving a few inches between them, no points of contact. John doesn’t know if he feels disappointed or relieved.He craves thecomfort of touch butat the same time he doesn’t want to taint Ray with his darkness. 

He’s about to close his eyes when suddenly a warm, strong arm is pulling him against more warmth and soft cloth and John wants to protest, pull away but he is so cold and Ray is just so warm... 

John still wants to pull away because he doesn’t deserve this. He has to go back to his room and just-

"Should have known you’d be the type to get all cosy-up with people," he mumbles. 

Ray chukles softly. "Sleep John.” his soft voice comes from near his ear. 

John’s thoughts stop when gentle lips press a short kiss against his temple, robbing him from his breath. Ray pulls back, his head back on the pillow and a small smile on his face. 

So John, even if he’ll regret it later, settles his own head on Ray’s shoulder. "Don’t blame me if you wake up in more pain love," he mumbles and lets out a long exhale before succumbing to sleep. 

-

John eyes the tux that hung from the door of the wardrobe where Sara had left it hours ago. It looks so innocent, just hanging there as if raising an eyebrow at himin invitation. 

John, as he tends to do with things that bother him,heignores it. Instead he is laying on his bed with a book in front of him. 

For once, he is reading a YA novel or whatever they are called.  Good Omens,  a book about a demon and an angel teaming up to stop the apocalypse is certainly interesting and fun. Those two are totally in love with one another it’s hilarious to read, the way they trip all over themselves is just so... remindful of how he is with Ray. 

Anyhow, the book is good. It actually managed to catch his attention for half the book. 

But it’s as if the cursed fancy suit is a huge neon sign, beckoning him forward; as if it were trying to get him into the dark side or whatever nonsense. 

John keeps ignoring it. At least he tries. 

He is the only one in the WaveRider, everyone had left a while ago to the Bureau’s annual ball, even Rory dressed up because “free food and drinks is worth thecostume party” he had said in his usal grunt. 

Sara had tried to convince him to join them with the argument that if Rory does it, so can he. 

John had contrargumented that Womble has been with them longer. Sara had just looked at him pityingly before going to get ready herself. 

John, being the salty fucker he is, refuses to participate in such mundane activity. He isn’t in the habit of looking for opportunities to embarras himself. Much. 

And deep in the dark recesses of his mind; he doesn’t want to see Ray trip all over himself for the likes of Nora Darhk.He absolutely detests jealousy. 

He tries to reinmerse himself in the book and keep ignoring it all but the door to his quarters opens ominously, supposedly they each have codes to their own rooms but since when things work as they are supposed to? 

Never. 

“Why are you still brooding here, alone?" Sara says, with that look that says she already knows. 

John rolls his eyes, brandishing his book in front of her. "Not brooding, reading,” he petulantly defends himself. 

Sara eyes the title with a perfect eyebrow cocked. "Seriously? You prefer that to free food and drinks,” she asks in mock disbelief. 

John makes a noncommittal noise and chooses to change the subject. “Listen love, now that Neron is no more and you have the services of one Nora Darhk I may be... taking my leave for a while,” he says, with fake determination. 

The woman raises a knowing eyebrow at him. She scoffs, shaking her head before pining him with a look. John resists the urge to squirm. 

It’s incredible the power this woman has over him. Probably it’s due to the mutual understanding that’s been there since the begining. 

“You know,” Sara sighs, “despite having seen what you’ve seen, you’ve even gone to hell and you,” she says exasperatedly, pointing at him with a finger, “can still be a bit of a coward,” she finishes her rant folding her arms. 

John sighs and closes the book, focusing on the woman staring daggers at him. “Well love, I’m sorry to disappoint but i do have to go check that Gary has actually taken good care of my plants and, 

as I’ve reiterated many times before, I’m not the type to dress up,” he pops the ‘p’ for extra effect. 

Sara snorts and shakes her head, disappointment swimming in her eyes. “Come on, it’d do you good to go mingle with other human beings for a while. Besides, Gary would be there, you can ask him about your plants,” she points out with a disbelieving smirk. “And, of course, incidentally see Ray,” she says with nonchalant eyebrow wiggle. 

He scoffs and stares incredulously at her. He leans forward on the bed;arms resting over his legs in a pretense of relaxed attitude.“ I’m sure he’s having the time of his life with Nora,” ugly jealousy marring his words. 

Sara looks smug now and John never wanted to hex her more. “Why Mr. Constantine, are you jealous?” she smirks and leans against the wardrobe’s door, next to the suit. 

John shrugs listlessly and deviates his eyes. “YI don’t do  jealousy,  love,” he points at the tux hanging there, “and I don’t do silly costumes,” he reaffirms, stubborn as always. 

Sara rolls her eyes and goes to sit down on the edge of the bed. “Look, if you want to stay here and wallow in self-pity and about how you are meant to be alone and how you get everyone that gets close to you hurt then go ahead but-“ she looks at him with soft eyes, “you deserve happy things, John. I mean, look at Ava and me. It hasn’t been easy and I’m still scared but it’s worth it,” she smiles, uncharacteristically gently. 

Constantine throws his hands up in exasperation. “Damnit Sara, don’t you understand? It’s not that- I know I get people close to me hurt, that I get them in danger. Look what happened with Des," he mutters, sounding defeated. 

Sara places a comforting hand on his leg and squeezes. "You also saved him. You nearly compromised the whole timeline in doing so," she says. 

He shakes his head in denial. "I still condemned him to hell," he says. "He still left," and if his voice trembles when he says this, well, no one can blame him. 

"Oh John, Ray made a deal with a demon to save Nate, if that doesn’t tell you anything about him then you are as clueless as he is. I swear you guys,” she sounds fond. "Anyway,"in true fashion, Sara stands up and pats him on the shoulder. “You are in a time-ship; impossibility flew outta the window when you stepped in,” she winks at him before sauntering out the room. Leaving John sitting there, stupefied. 

Ever since the night when John had his breakdown, he’s been actively avoiding Ray, scurrying out of pairing up with him and stew or brood in silence whenever he saw the man smile and be all... cosy with Nora. 

And that, for some reason, is what makes him get into action. So he jumps off the bed and rush to the bathroom for a shower. 

He doesn’t think about the repercussions. He doesn’t think about the whys. He just thinks about showering and dressing. And he thinks about Ray’s smiles and laugh, about his doe-like eyes and the light in them; his too-big heart, his sacrificing nature, how he cares and always sees the best in people and-

Yeah,he is in too-deep to come back from it now. 

John has never been dressed so fancy, has never seen himself looking so good. The trousers and the shirt hug his body snuggly and the knott of the tie surprisingly isn’t choking and the jacket isn’t over-heating. 

He even styled his hair, for fuck’s sake. 

And god but he looks good. He still doesn’t feel as confident as he should though he makes it up with extra swagger. 

“You changed your mind about the Ball, I see,” Gideon speaks and wait, is she sounding smug? 

John scoffs as he finishes the last touches to his outfit. “Yes, Gideon dear. Don’t make me change my mind, will ya?”

The cheeky IA... sniggers? but otherwise says nothing. John plasters his winning smirk before sending a longimg stare at his beloved trench coat but knew that he would have to face this battle alone. 

He strides into the Ball Room confidently. There are a bunch of bureau personnel he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care to, chatting merryly around the room (some of them already bordering on the side of tipsy) and the music is some tropical hybrid John could have gone all his miserable life without knowing. 

“Oh. My. God. You came!” an ecstatic voice exclaims, a pair of arms wounding around his neck. 

John tenses, touch still makes him feel uncomfortable and awkward, he pats the overly cheerful Gary on the back. “Yeah, lets not overdo this mate,” he says. 

Gary’s beaming face appears a moment later, eyes glinting appraisingly.“My, you even dressed up,” his grin wider, if that’s even possible. 

John shrugs, hands inside his pockets. “You work at the Time-Bureau, mate. You should know everything is possible,” he winks, then looks around inconspicuously searching for a certain lots of tall ball of goofiness. But his view is blocked by groups of people that have installed themselves at the buffet table and the dancing couples.

Gary notices and shaking his head he grabs him by the hand to start tugging John somewhere past the dancing floor. “The Legends are this way,” he says. 

He sees Rory and Charlie first; they clean up surprisingly nice. He never thought the arsonist would actually look attractive in hissuit. Charlie for her part, looks gorgeous in her black, long-sleeved dress. 

They were bickering like an old married couple, if John didn’t know better he’d think they probably would end up together or maybe just have a roll on the hay. 

Zari is with Nate, most likely dancing to this ghastly music or maybe just mingling with other guests. Sara and Ava are also there, looking perfect as they danced. 

“Oi oi, John-o!” she smiles as she sees him being dragged behind Gary. She whistles when she gets the full look. “Well, well, looking pretty there, champ.”

Gary finally releases his hand which he quickly puts inside his pocket. “Not bad yourself, Charlie-o,” he gives her a quick smile before giving a nod to Rory. “Womble.”

“Weasel,” the man grunts in response. 

John rolls his eyes but he has a small smile on his face. “So, what’s good around here?” 

“Sashimi rolls and mini pizzas,” Charlie supplies helpfully. “Thought this wasn’t for a tosser like you,” she adds as if it were an afterthought. 

“Alcohol’s great,” Rory grumbles, mid buffalo wing mouthful. 

“Great, seeing as I’m too sober for this,” he makes a broad gesture with a hand encompassing it all. “Especially the music.”

Rory shrugs, not really caring about anything that isn’t food. Gary, bless his soul, is trying to bounce to the eardrum-shattering music. So of course the only one that agrees with him is Charlie. 

“Oh look who dared to grace us with his presence,” Sara sends him a knowing grin. 

There’s a glow about her as she walks towards them; hand tightly clasping Ava’s. 

Ava eyes him up and down unapologetically and smiles in approval. “It’s nice to see you dressdd in something other than your usual clothes,” the woman says. 

“It’s because he has a very good reason to,” Sara comments casually. 

John chokes and wills the blush away. The women smirk and snigger, Rory calmly swallows his bite of food, burps and turns to look at him. 

“If you’re looking for Haircut, go look for Pretty-boy,” he points with his fork somewhere behind John. 

John turns around to try and locate the big man, smile fighting to formwhen he hears a well-known, well-loved laugh. But before it can fully bloom his precariously reviving heart and hope, they 

wither away. 

Because there, at the edge of the dance-floor, is Ray dancing and laughing with Nora Darhk. 

And just like that reality comes crashing down.Because why in the hell did he ever think he could have this?

In what universe does he actually get to have Raymond Palmer? 

In the moment before John could turn back around, Ray looks up and their eyes meet (yes, one of those movie-moments the big man loves). 

All the reasons why he shouldn’t have come rush to the forefront of his mind, all yelling at him, not giving space to other thoughts. 

He jerks his head back to his other companions, trying to swallow the cotton suddenly blocking his throat. “I think I- I’m gonna give the alcohol a try,” he says, discouraged. 

He drags himself to the bar and steals a bottle of whisky (using a little bit of magic) and goes to huddle on some corner. 

But he doesn’t even get to the second swallow before Gary is interrupting his pity party. “You know, I’ve been told that I’m a good listener,” he says quietly, a gentle smile on his face. 

“Have nothing to tell, mate,” hereplies listlessly. 

Gary sighs and wrenches the bottle out of his hands, passing it to someone John doesn’t pay any mind to. He goes to protest but is stopped by a very un-Gary movement when the man raises a hand up to cease his words. 

“John,” he says, uncharacteristic of him to call Constantine by his first name. “You know they aren’t together, right?”

John frowns, feigning ignorance. “Don’t know what you are talking about, mate,” he says, trying to sound convincing. 

Gary throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “You can be a bit of an idiot sometimes,” he groans. 

Constantine blinks at him for a moment while his comprehension skills get back online. “Well squire, I never claimed to be otherwise,” he says,matter-of-factly. 

Gary looks at him with sad eyes for a few seconds, he then lowers them and shakes his head. “You’d think that’s a good thing, wouldn’t you?” for some reason he sounded defeated. 

“It’s hard to be something different than what you’ve been all your life,” he confesses, in surprising honesty. 

Gary swallows. “You know, you are the only one who thinks that,” he wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Because in reality you are not much of an idiot as you like to pretend,” his tone is confidential, as if he were telling a secret. 

John tries to smile but it comes shaky at best. “I’m still not taking you back into my bed, mate,” he deflates the tension with humor. 

Gary snorts, sending him a knowing look. "Of course not, there is someone else you want in there now," he makes a silly eyebrow wiggle towards where Ray was dancing with Nora. 

As John watches them waltzing around the dance-floor being happy and smiling; Ray’s face lighting up and the familiarity of their touches, how Ray spins Nora around making her laugh in delight John starts to feel stupid. 

He is a poor sourly sod with a tragic past who is too broken a human being and can barely function most days. Doesn’t sleep enough, doesn’t eat enough and hides behind a mask of assholery and general uncaringness in order to keep people at arm’s length so the won’t cut themselves on John’s jagged edges or see the wounds he tries to conceal with barely-holding band-aids.He is a bastard that takes and takes and takes and doesn’t want to give. 

Because giving implies the possibility of being hurt and John’s had enough of that to last him a lifetime. 

So did he really think the big golden retriever that is Ray Palmer would choose him? 

He has Nora. Nora who isn’t afraid of her powers. Nora who despite her darkness still shines brightly. Nora who hasn’t lost the ability to appreciate things in life. 

So John does what John does best; he pisses off. He just makes his excuses and returns to the ship so his heart can comfortably spill on the floor of his room in private. 

‘Oh Johnny, Johnny, Johnny,” a mocking voice speaks from somewhere in the room. “Look at you, all dressed up. Did you leave your crystal slipper for your prince to find?” it laughs. 

John scoffs but doesn’t say anything. He’s learnt that is pointless to argue with the voice. He takes his jacket off and goesto actually hang it from the back of a chair instead of just throw it carelessly somewhere as he normally would do. 

‘Oh so no snarky comebacks? Where is that smart mouth of yours, Johnny?’ the voice continues mocking him. ‘Aw, cute boy broke your delicate little heart?’ it says viciously. 

Constantine ignores it still. He walks to the mirror hanging on the inside of the wardrobe’s door and stares at his reflection. 

‘Pathetic, isn’t it?’ the voice goes on, sounding almost gentle now. ‘Thinking you deserve to be happy. To be  loooveeed.  Haha, please Johnny, don’t be so naive,” it laughs cruely. 

John closes his eyes and braces himself. “Shut up,” he says, finally talking back. “Shut the fuck up,” he says again; cold and firm and sure. “I’ve had enough of you.”

The voice is quiet for far too long that John thinks he’s won. Until it laughs maniacally. 

‘So you are pulling a Gollum on me, ey Johnny?’

John raises an eyebrow at his reflection, who has a twisted smirk and hard black eyes. 

“I’m not going to pretend I know what you’re talking about,” he dismisses. "I just want you to shut up and leave me the fuck alone,” he spits at himself. 

His reflection rolls his eyesat him. ‘Don’t be stupid Johnny, I am a part of you. I’m never gonna leave you,’ his sweet smile is sickening. 

“Alright mate,” he replies. “If words don’t work then maybe-“ 

“Mr. Constantine, is everything alright?” the blessed voice of the AI comes from the cieling. 

“Do not worry, Gideon love, I’m fine,” he replies cheerfully, looking up at where the voice was coming from. “I was just... catching up with an old acquaintance,” he ends up saying. 

The AI says nothing else so John looks back into the mirror but the voice is gone; the only one there is his ownclear face. 

Jesus, he must be crazier than he thought. He slams the door shut and turns around against it, sliding down onto the floor. 

He hides his face in his hands because he feels so stupid. He is a mess. A stupid mess. 

No one ever tells you that falling in love doesn’t hurt any less each time. 

John is all for ‘I’m doomed and I walk alone’ despite Neron’s destruction and him being safe for now. 

But still. Still... 

“How stupid I an, bloody stupid,” he talks against his hands. “I’m just so- stupid,” he goes on. 

“No, you aren’t,” someone says. 

John jumps a foot in the air, hand over his heart. Ray rushes to his side, brown eyes worried. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says softly. 

John shakes his head, more a clearing gesture than denial. “No, you didn’t scare me, mate. I was just-“ he makes an aborted gesture with his hand before rubbing his face with it. “I was just thinking about the plants I left for Gary to take care of,” he finally settles for. 

Ray chuckles awkwardly and stands up, offering a hand to pull the exorcist up as well. He doesn’t let go of John’s hand when they are both standing, though. He eyes him up and smiles gently. 

“Why did you leave the party?” Ray asks, frowning. 

John shrugs noncomital. “Not a fan of that crowd, squire,” he makes up, with a forced smile. 

Ray stares at him critically for a moment before speaking again. “So why did you dress up, then?” he asks. 

Suddenly John feels self-conscious and he wants to run away to hide and never come back. He wants to bury his shame at the bottom of a bottle or in the bed of some willing partner until he could get himself back into control so he can finally plaster one of his usual smiles on and pretend everything is alright even when it clearly isn’t. 

Because he’s never really known what it means or how it feels like to be alright so he doubts his version is accurate. 

There’s a warm hand holding his and a soft voice speaking gently to him, grounding him. “Why did you go to the ball, John?” he asks again. 

John closes his eyes and swallows hard. “I wanted to-“ he takes a deep breath and dives in. “I wanted to see you,” he confesses, with his eyes downcast. 

Ray cards a hand through John’s hair gently. "Then why did you leave?" he asks, forehead resting against John’s. 

John swallows, eyes still downcast, he doesn’t really know how to answer the question. What is he supposed to say? That he left because, bloody hell, he was jealous of Nora? That he left because he saw Ray beaming happily at the woman and John didn’t want to come between them? He can’t say any of it now, can he? But also, Ray is here. With him and without Nora. He left the party to come looking for him, John Constantine. 

So he lifts his head with purpose and determination in his eyes. "Because you looked happy with Nora, mate," he says, trying to inflict with his tone all his hidden meanings. 

Ray blinks those puppy eyes at him in confusion for a worrying minute before chuckling awkwardly. "John," he says with tenderness. "Nora is my friend. Besides, she has her attentions somewhere else," he smiles. "And so do I," he shrugs, balancing on the heels of his feet nonchalantly.

John’s breath catches in his throat, is this stupid giant of a man saying what he thinks he is saying? This thought in turn send his mind into a loop. 

Bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody friggin’ hell. This is a mistake. Every person that gets close to him, every time he loves someone-

Ray must sense something because he takes John’s face in his hands and forces him to meet his eyes. 

“Johnny,” the big man says lovingly. Another fool, Constantine thinks. “The only one thatstand between you and happiness is yourself,” he gives John a boyish smile and the warlock just wants to eat him whole. “I know what you think of yourself but you are the only one who thinks that. So,” he lowers his voice and winks, “let me show you how I see you. Let me prove to you that you deserve good things.”

And John is powerless to deny him. He knows this can’t end well, that he will get Ray hurt and make themselves regret this. This may end as it always does; with John fucking it up one way or another and then John kicked to the curb and being alone again. As he should be. 

He wraps his arms around Ray’s shoulders, pulling him the inches separating them down. “Well squire, you are in for a ride then.”

Before the man can splurge some smooshy-mooshy nonsense, John tip-toes the last inch and finally, finally kisses him. 

And if ever one John Constantine is granted a heaven, well this is it. 


End file.
